Darknesses
by Netrixie
Summary: HIATUS There are many things that we do not know. There are many things we wish we knew. What happens when Harry and Severus need each other? And what happens when the others find out? It will not be pretty, I assure you. HPSS, dark, slash, SNARRY.
1. Forgiven

**Disclaimer: **When I am a blonde, middle-aged, goddess of ingenuity and fictional characters worth more than a few million with a following of well over 6 billion strong, you all will be the first to know. Promise.

**Warning: **Sexual scenes and mentions of violence. Seems like a Dark!Fic.

**Authours Note: **And the First-Person-Narrative Plot-Bunny strikes again. Joy. I wonder when it will let go of my leg and allow me to go back to typing my other fics? That's a thought to ponder, inninit.

**Title: **Forgiven

* * *

It is black. The blackness surrounds and buffets me, crying out that I am not worth it. I am not useful. I am not whole.

There are shards. They are the shards of my soul, the shards that pierce my hands and let my blood drain to the floor. My blood, tainted with the treachery of my past, coated with the names of my victims. My victims; innocent of wrong, free of taint, undeserving of their fate.

The remains scream. They scream for me to stop, to stay my hand. But I never do. I never can. I wield my weapon with precision, and watch with cold eyes even as my heart breaks and shatters and dies.

I sit here in the darkness and contemplate my life with the fragments of my sanity that have not succumbed to my sins. I sit here- silent, still- and I remember. I forget. My heart shatters again.

My hands stain the table with their paleness. I stare at them, palms up, fingers curled, like two hands of a corpse. They commit crimes, they extinguish lives, they are part of me. They do what I tell them. I am no better than a common criminal, hiding from justice behind a thin screen of 'duty' and 'sacrifice' and 'nobility'. I do what I am told; no more. No less.

Have they realized- do they _know_?- what I have done? Will they care? Will they pat me on the back and offer chocolate and condolences, and tell me 'it is for the greater good?' Will they tell me 'it could not be helped?' Will I go back to teaching ungrateful brats like I have done _no wrong?_

Lies. All _lies_. Everything I say is a _lie_. My life is a lie- I live a lie. I speak and breath and eat and die for lies. I have lied, I will lie, I am a lie.

But the deceitful gods who have given me this life are loath to take it away. I still live. I still breathe. My hands still commit their crimes, and my soul still dies.

There is the creak as the door opens. I cannot be myself this night- I glance up slowly to see who it is. Harry Potter stands at my door, bag over his shoulder, and I die a little more inside. Another lie. I turn away.

"Professor Snape?" his voice is hesitant. He pauses; I know his face is curious. The door creaks more as he shuts it, coming into the room and moving slowly to my desk.

I stare at my hands, he drops his bag. Comes closer. "Severus."

My hands are picked up; I watch distractedly. His warm, golden hands hold mine gently, softly, and his thumbs trace circles over my skin. My hands are pale, lifeless and still, and they burn in his warm grasp. I yank them away. He should not be tainted by my touch.

But he follows me, and I cannot stop his hands from reaching out and capturing mine again. He continues his massage, releasing the tension in my muscles and bringing my sanity back from its grave one piece at a time.

It is a long time before he stops, and I look down at him as he kneels next to my chair. I want to yell, I want to scream, I want to sob but I cannot for he is here. He is always here. I do not know why; I do not know how, but in the times like this he always comes to me.

He has detention. He forgot something in the classroom. He needs to talk to one of the Slytherin's. He needs to speak to the Headmaster. But he is always here, and I find I am grateful. There is no sound as he reaches up from his position on the floor and cups my cheek, no sound as he lets me press against his hand.

He is pure, good, whole, and he touches me. I will taint him but he doesn't move away though he knows the fact as well as I do. I speak- he has undone my barriers with his unstained hand and I could never hold out against his eyes.

"They did nothing. Had done nothing. They were innocent of what they had been accused of and they were slaughtered. By me. Because he told me to do it. And I _did_. I did, Harry. Oh, gods. The blood was everywhere and they never fought back. They never- oh gods."

My voice cracks, I can feel it all over again, hear it again, see it again. See their wide eyes staring at me, pleading with me for mercy, begging me to spare their children. No- the darkness comes back and I am los-

-saved. Harry's hands are wiping the tears off of my face gently and I didn't even realize they had come. His eyes are full of an emotion I do not want to identify because if it is pity I will die. They stare at me, those emerald orbs, and I desperately try to loose myself in them for the darkness cannot find me where it does not exist.

Harry stares back at me as I search his gaze. He stands slowly, and I think to myself it is because he does not wish to scare me. But he needn't have worried- I will never be afraid of him. He is mine, more than anyone else's, Saviour.

My eyes slide shut as he bends over me, his lips brushing mine with the barest of traces. It is enough to make me moan, for in this moment he is more than a student, more than a boy, more than who he is presumed to be. He is my hope that I can go on, my light in the unending night that is ever-present, and my forgiveness.

His lips touch mine again as his hand cradles my face. He deepens the contact and I groan as his tongue sweeps my lips. He is patient, waiting for me to open my lips rather than force me. He would never force me, knowing what I am forced to do. My lips open.

There is a pain in this kiss but more than that there is forgiveness. He is forgiving me for my actions, forgiving me even as he explores the cavern of my mouth and creates pleasure inside of me. Distantly I think that I am wrong about him in the real-world where things such as pride and attitude and bearing matter but here and now he is nothing more than Harry, my lover.

My body is reacting to him, and even as I notice the state of things with a detached eye I feel my sanity shiver in its cast. How can I think of this when I have done such a thing? But the thought goes no further as Harry moves to straddle my lap, pressing his smaller body against mine.

His hands are wrapped around my neck, now, and I cannot help but feel that I do not deserve this. He forgives me, though I treat him like garbage. He touches me, though I am stained with innocent blood. He loves me, though I am unable to return it. And he gives himself to me time after time on nights like this when the moon is eternal and the sun a passing fancy and I cannot keep myself from taking his offer of salvation.

He is moving now, body pressed against me harder than before, and rocking slowly. I let myself become aroused, knowing that he wants it, and willing to give it to him. I would give him anything, should he ask for it. He rides my body eagerly even as I move beneath him.

He stops and moves off, taking my hand between his own and pulling me up after him. He leaves his bag in the classroom as we go through my office and into my chambers, and he stops in the bedroom, turning to me. My body rejoices as he follows the ritual, and as he comes near I unclasp my robes from my shoulders. They fall to the floor, forgotten, as Harry takes care of the rest.

Shoes, shirt, trousers, and tunic all come off as I stand there, and he is still fully clothed. He reaches out for my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the back of it. He does the same with the other and I shiver. I am caught in his gaze, caught knowing that he knows what I did and will still join me in this; caught, and freed.

He presses his lips to mine again as he starts to kiss all over my body. No spot is left bare of his touch, no area free of his balm. He frees me from the sins of the night I have lived through and banishes them from my soul, leaving me spotless as I face him.

But no. There are still patches of night drifting in my soul and he catches them in himself as he lays me on the bed. His clothes disappear. I stare up at him. He stares down at me. I close my eyes.

Harry kneels between my legs and I shiver as he studies me. There is a tension in the air that excites me, makes it impossible to breathe. He touches the inside of my thigh as gently as he would touch an exquisite china doll and I suck my breath in.

He rises onto his knees and spreads my legs, whispering the spell that would ready me for him. I am tense, so tense, and as the smooth, hot tip of his organ touches me I feel it all. He slides in easily, and I gasp as I am impaled on his member. He pulls out and so does my breath, and with a forceful thrust he drives home.

His thrusts grow in intensity, and I can feel my body be purified, I can feel the ever-present night fading and dying as he fills me up and forces it out of me. We are rising, flying, racing for the end and dying as we leave the cliff. His seed inundates me and I am free. There is nothing in my body other than him, no substance other than what he has provided.

As we rest and he pulls me into his arms I can close my eyes. I can see sights other than before, for now he fills my vision and my mind and my soul. He has gathered all my pieces and welded them back together making me work again and he asks nothing for it.

He never does.

* * *

_And this is one of the reasons I am currently so sleep deprived I fell asleep on the train and missed my stop. Yeah. Please tell me what you thought._


	2. Absolved

**Disclaimer: **When I am a blonde, middle-aged, goddess of ingenuity and fictional characters worth more than a few million with a following of well over 6 billion strong, you all will be the first to know. Promise.

**Warning: **Sexual scenes and mentions of violence. Seems like a Dark!Fic.

**Authours Note: **Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I said it was a one-off. Oh, well. Blame Rika100 for this. She asked for it. :P

**Title: **Absolved

* * *

I know he needs me, I know it as I knew he had been Called two days ago. There is a burning in me when this happens, a burning that only he can cool. I do not know why, I do not know how, yet it is inevitable.

Hermione glances at me worriedly as I stand and begin to make my way out of the common room. It is a difficult proposition, seeing as no one in Gryffindor pays the slightest mind to our curfew. The room is packed with people shouting, talking, laughing and I cannot stand the sound.

I need to be with him, I need to free myself of these obnoxious _children_ and race down to the dungeons. Ron grabs my sleeve as I walk past him, and I compose myself as I turn to face him. He does not, after all, know what I need to do.

No one does.

His face is open and innocent and it annoys me. I need to see pale skin and black hair and black eyes, not freckled skin and red hair and blue eyes.

"Hey Harry," he laughs as he holds me fast, "Where are ya goin?"

I seethe silently as I make my face smile. "I need to talk to Dumbledore about something," I lie as easily as I breathe, "I've just remembered."

Ron's face falls, and even as I put an sympathetic face on my mind is sneering at the young man. He is so innocent, just like the rest of them. They know _nothing_, and yet they persist in saying they understand. I pull away from Ron with an apologetic shrug, and exit the Tower.

I feel Hermione's gaze tracking me, and I let a little sliver of sadness slice through me. She, of any of the fools I live with, deserves to know. And I assume, as I make my way down the corridor with my bag over my shoulder, that she will find out eventually. She always does.

The door creaks as I open it, and I stand in the doorway. It is dark in the room and he is staring at his hands as though they are unknown, a heretofore undiscovered evil that exists in his life. He looks up at me.

"Professor Snape?" I ask, my voice hesitant as I finally face the object of the burning in my heart. He turns away before I speak, though, and I step fully into the room. The door creaks a little more as I shut it, and I drop my bag as I make my way into the room, getting closer and closer to him until I am next to him.

"Severus."

I pick up his hands as he glances up and absently watches me. My thumbs trace gentle circles on his skin as his hands are limp in mine, and the cold skin of the Potions Master warms in my fiery grasp. He pulls his hands away suddenly but I had been expecting that and I follow him, taking his hands in mine again.

I kneel next to him, massaging his hands, waiting until the sanity has come back into his eyes before I stop. It is a long time. His Master has ruined him, taking this formidable and competent Professor of Potions and turning him into nothing more than a slave. At times like these I hate Voldemort more than I can fathom, cursing him silently as I watch my lo… partn… _teacher _deal with his demons.

He is silent as he stares at me, and I curse to myself as I see the emotions playing in his eyes. Fear, disbelief, shame. I want to wipe those emotions from his eyes and have my Professor back, I want to have the snarky, snippy, callous bastard back, but in this moment he doesn't exist.

He is wondering why I am here, I know, as he always does. He would never believe me were I to say I wanted to help him, I wanted to be with him, I wanted to take the despair from his eyes. But I reach my hand up to cup his pale cheek and he presses against me, expressive eyes cursing himself as he touches me.

He never wants to touch me, not at first, but I do not move away, knowing that he needs this as much as I need to give it to him.

Severus' voice, when he speaks, is dry, cracked, and rough, telling me more in that moment than anything else he has done.

"They did nothing. Had done nothing. They were innocent of what they had been accused of and they were slaughtered. By me. Because he told me to do it. And I _did_. I did, Harry. Oh, gods. The blood was everywhere and they never fought back. They never- oh gods."

His voice cracks as he stumbles over his last words, eyes clouding as memories and visions of his actions come back to haunt him. The sanity in his gaze is trembling under the onslaught, and my other hand rises even as I see the foundations of his barriers start to crumble.

His eyes snap open as I touch him again, wiping the tears away gently as he stares into my eyes desperately, unblinkingly. I know he can see my love for him in my gaze but still he stares.

I stare back, and stand slowly, never once breaking the gaze, and I continue moving slowly even as I bend over him, though I see in his eyes that he is not afraid of me.

My lips brush his slowly and he moans at the slight touch. Under any other circumstance I would have smiled, but I know too well why he is so responsive. In this moment I am more than a student, more than a boy, more than the world presumes me to be. In this instant, I am nothing more than the only one with the power to save this man.

Never have I ever wanted to be a Saviour to anyone more than this man.

My lips reach down to caress his again, this time my tongue sweeping out to taste his lips. I am always slow, gentle with him, he must make this choice himself. His lips open, and I explore his mouth as he relaxes against the chair and lets me. I am happy right now, so happy that I can be here for him, the only one who can help him through this.

Later, when the day comes and I leave his bed in the early hours of the morning he will ignore me, and I him. I will dress, and leave, and if I am able I will take one more kiss before I disappear from his life. We will go back to our normal relationship of hatred and fear, and if his eyes linger on me for to long, or I get one to many detentions to be considered normal, it is alright.

But I push those thoughts away as I straddle his lap, resting my weight on him gently as I settle myself. My hands are around his neck, and I delight in the sounds emanating from his throat as I taste him. I know his thoughts well, and I know at this moment he is berating himself for everything. From the way he treats me in the real-world to the way he believes he is staining me with the blood he has shed.

But as my body begins to move against him I know those thoughts are falling away as he takes what I am offering. But my thoughts still spin, my mind still speaks even as my throat is reduced to mindless grunts and groans of pleasure as bliss begins to spark through us. I am his salvation, the only one willing to see that Severus is breaking, shattering, dying more and more each and every time he returns from a raid.

I am the one who can help him, I can take his pain and fear into my body when I steal it from him, asking nothing from him other than consent.

I stop my motion, though my body protests, and I take his hand as I lead him away from the classroom, through his office, and into his private quarters. I know where his bedroom is, and I lead him there, stopping and turning to him as the doors shuts.

Severus unclasps his robes and they fall to the floor, forgotten, as I come near him and start to undress him. His shirt falls away, baring a pale, pale chest, and I tear my gaze from it as I pull his trousers off, the rest of his clothing following. He is naked now, and I can only stare as I see him for the first time in too long.

But I reach out and catch one of his hands, bringing it to my lips even as I capture the other. His gaze is on me as I press an open-mouthed kiss to the back of his hand, turning to the left and doing the same. His shiver is delicious, and I am glad I can do this for him.

His body is irresistible to me and I kiss his lips once more before I start exploring. His skin is sensitive, and he trembles as my mouth glides over his alabaster flesh, catching his shivers in my mouth and swirling my tongue in meaningless patterns. I know, not needing to look, that his head has rolled back and that his eyes are closed as I taste and claim and mark every inch of him, banishing the pain and fear and shame from his body.

He watches me as I stand and face him, laying him down on the bed as I Vanish my clothing. I stare at him and he at me, but his eyes close and I kneel between his legs. I study him, watching his chest rise and fall, watching as his glorious erection stands in the air, demanding and proud. I touch the inside of his thigh gently, marveling at the smooth skin, and I rise onto my knees.

Even as I whisper the spell and position my body I am thinking that I am finally doing something worthy. Even as I impale him I think that this is one of the few things I can do for him. When his gasp burns through my body, driving all rational thought from me like a tidal wave I still know that he views me as his personal Saviour. As the one who can forgive him. But he is the one forgiving me, absolving me of my guilt, of my inaction, of my own fear.

As my thrusts begin to deepen I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling, listening to our harsh breathing and Severus' hushed murmurs. He doesn't know what he is saying but I can hear him, and his words send me flying.

"…god, Harry…. harder … _faster_… please, _more_…. need this, love you….."

His words send me over the edge and I feel him join me as his body spasms around mine. I collapse on top of him, spent, but I find the strength to roll over and drag him into my arms. When I see the slightly blissful, relieved smile playing on his lips I know I have succeeded in my task and I tighten my arms around him.

I have tonight, at least, with him, and I will not let him go until the sun rises and the new day begins. I sigh.

At least I have tonight.

_

* * *

_

Hey- yeah, so I hope you like this ficcy-thing. Tell me, k?

_Netrixie_


	3. Torn

**Disclaimer: **When I am a blonde, middle-aged, goddess of ingenuity and fictional characters worth more than a few million with a following of well over 6 billion strong, you all will be the first to know. Promise.

**Warning: **Dark!Fic.

**Authours Note: **The long-awaited third chapter of 'Darknesses' is finally here! Yay for authours who realize that a WIP has been left alone for longer than five months! … sorry, btw.

**Title: **Torn

* * *

I watch as Harry makes his way out of the Common Room- I watch, and sigh. He moves through the crowds with a certainty of self, a gracefulness to his stride that never existed before. I watch as Ron stops him, I watch the brief annoyance flash through his gaze before he hides it.

And he hides it so well. Ron has never realized that our Harry has changed, that he has become someone else. But Ron was never the brightest of our class- he has never needed to be. And I will admit that it's part of his charm- the blind loyalty to friends that overcomes sense and even reason.

Harry is moving away again, a graceful dancer in this riot of hyperactive students, and I cannot help but watch him. I know he is aware of my gaze, as I know he will not meet my eyes. He has too many secrets, too many hidden aspects of his being to hold my gaze. I have always been able to read him, and he knows this.

So as he walks through the portrait I turn my unseeing eyes back to my book. The words on the page no longer hold any attraction for me- my thoughts rest solely on my Harry. On my friend, who has changed so much from the wide-eyed first year I met on the train. Something has happened to him, and I don't know what.

* * *

The fire is fading back to its embers, and I watch the comforting sight though my thoughts are not on it. There are too many other worries crowding my thoughts for me to loose myself in the beauty of the dying flames.

Albus is worried- though he will not say it. He is worried for Severus, as am I. But I only know half of what goes on in the Order, and I know nothing of what might happen, or has happened. It annoys me to be kept in the dark on issues I am concerned about, and I feel my lips tighten as a scowl comes to them. I force myself to relax- tomorrow morning will be trying enough without making it worse by going without sleep.

But my thoughts drift back to my co-worker, and I frown thoughtfully as I sip my tea. Severus always was a quiet man- even as a student of mine he had been silent and studious- but now, with so many other concerns resting on his shoulders he had drifted into almost complete silence.

His classes are the lucky ones, I know, though they would not thank me for saying such a thing. But they get to hear his voice on a daily basis, as the Faculty does not. If he has nothing pressing to say, he won't- and that's that. I can never make him speak more than he wishes, and usually after a few tries he looses his patience and leaves the room.

But recently- recently things had changed. Though Severus was still required to answer the Dark Lord's call, and still required to feed information to both the Order and the Death Eaters, and atop all of that he was still required to teach his classes- he was calmer, more at peace.

But I cannot understand the difference in his bearing. Just an hour ago he had returned from the Dark Lord, mouth strained and pinched, hands clasped before him distrustfully, eyes guarded and wary. He sat before me and Albus, and told us of the monstrosities he had been forced to commit over the two days since he had been Called, voice deep and even as he spoke.

There was no inflection in his voice, no tone, and it hurt to listen to him. He merely gave his report and disappeared, presumably to his rooms. The Headmaster's office had been silent after that, as Albus and I worried over our Potions Master. There was something he was hiding, something that would ease the pain in him over the night- and we didn't know what it was.

And we didn't know if we wanted to find out.

Severus may be a solitary man, he may be a quiet man, he _is _a sarcastic and snarky man, but he is my peer, my one-time student, and occasionally a friend, but I don't know him at all.

I force thoughts of my coworker out of my mind as I reach for a sheaf of papers, sighing as I begin to mark the Transfiguration essays. I will deal with the paradox of Severus Snape in the morning.

* * *

The morning was a slow one for me- none of my students being brought before me for punishments, none of my teachers had complained of their duties as of yet. The Great Hall slowly filled as I let my eyes drift across the slow-moving sea of teenage Witches and Wizards, smiling slightly- as was my habit. More than one child looked up at the Head Table to gauge the mood of their Professors, most nodding to me as I caught their eyes.

I glanced up at the ceiling, wondering at the winds that lashed the Towers and courtyards and trees. The sky was an ominously brilliant blue, as clear and dazzling as a diamond. But I shake such morbid thoughts from my mind as the students begin to settle, waiting impatiently for their breakfasts to appear.

I chuckle to myself at the annoyed sounds of hunger emanating from the Tables, and Minerva glances towards me with a slight frown on her face. I smile back, though I raise my hand and the food appears, appeasing the masses. The sudden silence in the Hall was a blessing as the children reached for their favored foods, and I just drank my tea as Minerva snorted silently and began to carefully rip a croissant into perfect strips.

My eyes wandered the Tables as they were wont to, but paused over Gryffindor Table. Something wasn't right… and then I had it. Harry was missing, and Ms. Granger was looking worried. Not an uncommon look on the studious girl, but that combined with the absence of Harry… I sigh.

I looked around the Hall now, wondering if anyone else was missing. But Minerva brought my attention to Severus, who had just entered through the side door reserved for the use of the Professors. I exchanged a surprised glance with my Deputy, and began to watch my Potions Master.

He was unstressed, but though it was obvious to myself and Minerva it would not be to anyone who knew him less. The lines around his eyes and lips had relaxed, making him look more approachable than normal. His movements, while still precise, lacked the angry edge of tension they usually displayed, and he sat casually in his seat.

Minerva hissed my name, and I dragged my eyes away from the stunning sight of my Potions Master almost _reclining _in his chair to see the missing form of Harry James Potter stroll into my Great Hall. He ignored the looks his friends were giving him, instead choosing to sit in his seat and begin eating.

The look that passed between myself and Minerva was complicated- we weren't sure we wanted to contemplate what this strange coincidence meant.

* * *

Hermione was staring at me, giving me the look I knew meant she was trying to figure out an unobtrusive way to broach a sensitive topic. But nothing could dim my mood, nothing. I snuck a glance up at the Head Table, and hid my immediate smile at the sight Severus made. Not that anyone else would know that the dour Potions Master looked any different, but I could tell. I always could. And I knew why.

_The sun was rising, I knew, by the chime of the old clock in the corner. I sighed, looking down at the still form in my arms, not wanting the night to be over. But I knew he would want me gone, and so I began to unwind myself from around him. I chuckled brokenly as the scent of him filled my nose, and froze as he shifted._

_But he sighed and fell back into sleep, his body a comforting weight atop my chest that I didn't want to remove. So I stayed still for a moment longer, lingering for as long as I dared. But after a moment I knew I was merely wasting time, and I unwrapped my arms from his form. Gently, so gently, I pushed him off and slid out from under him, trying to do so without waking him._

_He needed his sleep, and if I were the one to wake him I would never forgive myself. After all he has been through these last few days he deserves an uninterrupted slumber. But as I begin to leverage myself off of the bed, he shifts, and wakes. I clench my jaw at the sight of his languid motions and sleepy eyes, and curse myself for a clumsy fool as he searches me out._

_I tense, though I know he won't be angry with me; I am just angry at myself. But he doesn't do anything I am expecting- he does what I have hoped for for so long. His hand comes to rest on my arm, and he tugs slightly before falling back into sleep. My breath comes short and shallow for a moment, but I slid back under the covers and wrap my body around his._

_His contented sigh is all I need to hear._

* * *

And part three is done. There will be two more parts, and then it's over. Thanks for reading and remember to review!


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